


The Little Orange Rabbit

by ShapeShiftersandFire



Category: Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Gen, eight-year-old ephraim, infant sarah, tolerant ephraim au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShapeShiftersandFire/pseuds/ShapeShiftersandFire
Summary: What's an uncertain older brother to do but entertain his baby sister with the raggedy old rabbit she yanked out from under the bed?
Relationships: Ephraim Bellows & Sarah Bellows
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The Little Orange Rabbit

They left him alone with her. His parents and grandmother had gone out, to run one errand or another. Harold was out, where Ephraim didn’t know, and Ephraim… Ephraim was home alone, taking care of his toddler sister, who can do little more than cry and wail. It’s not a riveting conversation, and it’s decidedly one-sided.

And it’s giving Ephraim a headache.

He’s trying to work on his homework, but Sarah’s incessant wailing from the next room is distracting him. He keeps staring at the same problem, trying to remember where he left off, but each time he looks up as Sarah’s wailing starts from a high note and peters out, he looks down and forgets what he’d been doing.

At first, he lets her cry. She’ll wear herself out eventually, he thinks, he’s sure, but an hour goes by, and then two, and Sarah still has yet to stop crying.

At that point, Ephraim begrudgingly throws down his pencil with half a mind to storm into Sarah’s room, though he hardly knows what he’s supposed to say to an infant who can hardly understand him, and listens. He’s heard Sarah cry before, and Harold—he was but four years old when Harold was born, but he remembers when Harold cried, it was for a variety of reasons: he was hungry, he was tired, he needed a diaper change.

Ephraim quickly rules out Sarah being tired. If she were, she would have gone to sleep already.

Which leaves two options, only one of which is greatly preferable to the other.

_He doesn_ _’t know how Mother did it._

How she still does.

(Although he’s noticed she seems to want to do it decidedly _less._ )

(He hasn’t quite grasped _why_ , although he thinks it has something to do with the way Sarah looks. She’s noticeably paler than the rest of the family. Her hair is lighter, almost white and her eyes have yet to change color. They’re still a pale, pale blue.)

 _Hmm._ Ephraim pushes his chair away and goes to Sarah’s room. She cries when he walks in, as though she doesn’t hear him over the sound of her own wailing, but the moment he appears in her vision, she stops. Almost instantly.

Ephraim glowers at her. “What do you want?” he asks.

As he expected, Sarah says nothing. She stares up at him, quietly.

“All right, then,” he says, and turns to leave.

And immediately Sarah’s crying starts up again.

 _Brat!_ He grinds his teeth. That’s all it is, she’s just being a brat. She wants attention. That’s all.

 _But do infants understand that kind of concept?_ He’s not sure.

Maybe she’s hungry then?

Ephraim goes downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle and heads back up, but when he offers it to Sarah she makes no move to take it. She stares up at him with curious wonder, ignoring the bottle Ephraim holds in front of her face.

He frowns deeply, pulls it away, then offers it again, but still Sarah stares up at him instead. Ephraim pulls the bottle away again, feeling frustration well in his chest. “What do you want?” he asks, and not without an edge to his voice. But instead of looking afraid, as he might have expected, Sarah offers him something that looks like the beginning of a smile.

Is she—Smiling? At _him_? Ephraim reels. Had Harold ever smiled at him when he was Sarah’s age? Or had he been so disinterested in holding his baby brother he hadn’t noticed? It must have been the latter. He doesn’t remember Harold ever smiling at him the way Sarah does.

“No,” Ephraim mutters to himself, turning away from the crib. “No, I’m not doing that, no—” But Sarah starts crying again when he turns away, vanishes from her field of vision. He groans in frustration. _Fine!_ He all but slams the bottle down on the dresser, not that it does anything to interrupt Sarah’s crying even in the slightest, and goes to the edge of the crib. This time, Sarah’s crying only slows, but doesn’t stop, not entirely.

This time, she stares up at him with tears in her eyes. Ephraim feels a twinge of something in his chest.

He has half a mind to walk away and let her cry, just so he can finish his homework, but the way she looks at him…

_I can_ _’t leave her like that. What would Father say?_

(Mother wouldn’t care. But Father? He loved Sarah enough for both of them, and then some.)

So it’s with great reluctance and wild uncertainty that Ephraim scoops his little sister up into his arms and holds her against his chest, the way Mother does, or so he tries. He’s not sure if he’s doing it right—he’s got Sarah’s head propped up in the crook of one arm, and the other arm he has curled underneath her—but he’s not immediately afraid he’s going to drop her, so that’s something.

And what’s more, is once Sarah’s in Ephraim’s arms, she’s quiet. Not another peep comes out of her, not even the threat of more crying. She’s perfectly quiet, looking up at him with big, pale eyes. Ephraim has the immediate urge to put her down, something about a small child staring at him like that is unnerving and he’s not prepared for it in the least, but he doesn’t. He holds onto her, and stares at her as equally curious as Sarah.

Those eyes, the color, it’s just like Mother’s. Her eyes are a pale color Ephraim hasn’t yet decided is gray or blue or a combination of both. Not that he’s had much time to figure it out; between the way her eyes change in certain lighting and the way she doesn’t let him hold her gaze long. He thinks she might be ashamed of her eyes, but he doesn’t quite understand _why._ Maybe it’s for the same reason she doesn’t want much to do with Sarah?

 _She has Mother_ _’s eyes._ That’s undeniable.

(And on the brighter side, there’s no indication that Sarah needs to be changed.)

( _She_ _’s lonely, then,_ Ephraim concludes. He’s not sure what to do with that.)

It’s a moment of quiet, as he and his sister stare at each other, until Sarah tentatively reaches for Ephraim’s tie. He gently closes his hand around her small hand and draws it away from his tie. “No, no,” he says gently, and it met with a gentle stream of babbling from Sarah.

She sucks at her bottom lip, looking up at him expectantly. She wiggles, just a little, but it’s enough to send a bolt of fear through Ephraim’s heart. _What if he drops her—_ but Sarah settles down and returns to quietly staring at him.

Ephraim blinks slowly. He can’t possibly put Sarah back in her crib now, she’ll cry if he leaves her, and she won’t stop unless he’s there in the room with her, where she can see him. He’ll have to take her back to his room with him.

With another sigh and a slight readjustment of his hold on Sarah, Ephraim makes the short trip back to his room. His heart races each time Sarah wiggles in his arms, as though she’s trying to get a good look at everything in the hallway. It’s not spectacular to Ephraim, but to an infant who hasn’t seen very much of the house, it’s a whole new expanse in her small, small world.

And, evidently, his room is the most fascinating thing she’s seen, despite it being nearly identical in structure and decoration to her own. She starts babbling, nonsensical and incomprehensible, the moment Ephraim walks into his room, and doesn’t stop, even when he’s gotten her set up on a thick blanket on the floor. He sits back at his desk and watches her a moment, squirming on the blanket, waving her hands at things only she can see, kicking at the blanket.

Ephraim feels a twinge of something else.

She’s almost… _endearing._

(He almost sees why Father loves her. And Harold.)

He watches her a moment longer before he’s content she can’t get into any trouble lying on the blanket, and returns to his homework. At last he’s able to get through more than one problem; when he glances over at Sarah, he more than once finds her having paused in her shuffling to stare at him with wide, curious eyes. It lasts only a moment before she’s back to staring at the ceiling and pawing at the air.

And then, as Ephraim gets overly absorbed in his work and finds himself nearing the end, he hears something new. The sound of fabric swishing on fabric, something heavier than a blanket but lighter than Sarah being dragged along the floor.

Ephraim looks up, and what does he find in Sarah’s hand, being shuffled around the blanket by the ear but his old stuffed rabbit, an orange thing with one eye he’d stashed away under his bed but a year ago.

 _You_ _’re growing up now,_ Mother had said, looking at the rabbit with an even look of disdain. _You_ _’ll have to leave such childish things behind._

Now, in all fairness, Mother had never suggested _what_ he do with the rabbit, so in what Ephraim considered a minor act of defiance, he’d hidden the rabbit away under his bed where she wouldn’t find him. She never looked under the beds, anyhow. Sylvie had found it once when she’d gone through his room and all it had taken was one look at the horror on his face for her to promise not to say anything to Delanie.

And so the rabbit, named Cowslip after the small red flowers he’d seen in a book once, remained tucked away under his bed, where Ephraim could reach him if need be but where Mother would never find him. Now, one orange ear is gripping in Sarah’s tiny hand, and he’s being jerked around across the blanket. Ephraim watches a moment, filled with equal parts shock and anger and the urge to snatch Cowslip away from Sarah— _How could you treat him like that?_ —but then as she heavily pats Cowslip’s head it occurs to him (at the same time that he reminds himself Sarah is a baby and doesn’t know any better) that she…likes him? When she manages to get get a good enough hold on the rabbit, she hugs him by the neck, looking up at Ephraim with a smile.

Ephraim finds himself smiling back. He abandons his homework and settles himself down on the blanket beside Sarah and looks the rabbit over. For the year it spent under his bed, gathering dust, it still looks as good as the day Ephraim put him away. “He’s still as handsome isn’t he?” he asks, more to himself than Sarah, who laughs as Ephraim talks to her, and clutches the rabbit tighter.

“What?” he asks, as Sarah laughs again. “Is my voice funny to you?”

Sarah laughs some more, and Ephraim watches her, fighting the smile he feels blossoming on his face. He lets it slip, just a little. Sarah smiles wider. And then she holds out the rabbit to Ephraim. He hesitates to take it from her. It’s been a year since he touched it. What if Mother came through the door now and saw him with it? What would she say?

Ephraim frowns (which Sarah evidently finds funny, judging by the way she giggles). _Mother says I_ _’m supposed to be growing up now. Well, then I can make my own decisions!_ And he happily takes the rabbit, who, after a year under the bed is still as soft as Ephraim remembers, and waves it around in front of Sarah. She smiles happily, reaching for Cowslip’s soft nose.

“Guess what I used to call him?” Ephraim asks, shaking the rabbit back and forth, letting his ears flop around. This time when Sarah laughs, Ephraim lets himself smile. Her eyes aren’t even on him anymore, they’re all for the rabbit. She laughs and reaches for Cowslip each time Ephraim waves him around. It’s almost…endearing.

“ _Cowslip,_ ” Ephraim says, and lowers the rabbit to rub his nose against Sarah’s.

Sarah’s still laughing, even as she wriggles and reaches for the little orange rabbit.

Ephraim lifts the rabbit away, then lowers it and gently presses Cowslip’s nose into Sarah’s cheek twice more before he finally lets her take the rabbit from him with a sound that almost sounds like she thinks she’s won. He leans his hand on his chin as he watches her hold Cowslip tightly, alternating between holding the rabbit and sucking on his nose, all while looking up at Ephraim and smiling.

“He’s a good rabbit,” Ephraim says. “He’ll take good care of you.” He runs his hand over Sarah’s soft, still-grown hair as she looks up at him, Cowslip’s nose in her mouth and cover in spit. Ephraim wonders if he’d ever chewed on Cowslip’s nose when he first got him.

As Sarah sighs contently, Ephraim reaches for his homework and brings it down to his lap. In between problems he glances at Sarah, quiet and alternating between staring around at the room and staring at him as she sucks on Cowslip’s nose. And then, finally, the next time he looks at her, she’s fallen asleep, Cowslip’s nose still in her mouth.

Ephraim sighs, sets his book aside and gently scoops his sister into his arms, rabbit and all. He carries her back to her room, tucks her into her bed. It almost pains him to have to let Cowslip go for real this time, but the little rabbit is far better off with someone who can love him like Ephraim has instead of being stuffed away under a bed. He pulls the blanket over Sarah and Cowslip, then returns to his room to finish up the last of his homework.

The front door swinging shut and Mother’s shrill voice from the hall announcing their arrival home makes his heart leaps. Sarah still has his rabbit tucked in her arms. He manages to slip it from her arms and tuck it under the bed, where he hopes Mother won’t be able to see it. Then he makes his way downstairs to greet his parents, just taking off their coats.

Mother looks relieved to see him. “How are you, Ephraim?”

“Well,” he says. “I’ve finished my homework.”

Mother nods, pleased. “And Sarah?” Her expression noticeably darkens.

“She cried for a good while,” Ephraim says, frowning. “She’s finally calmed down.”

Mother huffs, then begrudgingly goes up the stairs to check on her youngest child. Ephraim’s heart races as he thinks about what she’ll say if she sees the rabbit. He’s got an excuse lined up before the hem of her dress disappears from view.

Father, on the other hand, takes his time hanging his hat on the hook, and not without a tired sigh at Mother’s frustrations with her youngest. But he pats Ephraim on the shoulder with a small, knowing smile. Ephraim sighs with relief.

**Author's Note:**

> based on a concept ssttitdramon came up with


End file.
